Best Friend vs Girlfriend
by sexiglassesSNOG
Summary: When Ron experiences an emotional breakdown, one of Voldemort's servants takes advantage of the situation and tries to kill Harry. (Written BEFORE I read the fifth book, sorry for any discrepancies.)


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or surrounding characters. Even though that is horrible grammar. The only person who owns them is J.K. Rowling. Hogwarts' hallways filled with the raucous, loud students as they changed classes. Girls chatted in clusters that blocked the pathway, boys stood in groups of four or five and talked, laughed, and joked..he searched everywhere, but nowhere could Ron find the memorable shock of unkempt black hair or the owner of the bushy brown locks. Where were his two friends? Harry and Hermione were becoming more and more difficult to find lately. Ron could have understood if it was either one of them gone, but why both? Hermione, alone, he could find studying frantically in the library; usually for a test several months away. Harry was usually at Quidditch practice -all the time- or hanging out in the common room. But recently he'd been finding them in the strangest places, together: Flitwick's classroom, while the professor was on break; walking down hallways that led to nothing, sitting outdoors by the lake and the Whomping Willow. Something strange was going on, and Ron was determined to get to the bottom of it.  
  
He decided to cut classes. Luckily for Ron, the next class on his schedule was taught by Professor Binns, who wouldn't miss anyone, as he did not even know his pupil's names. Likely his two friends had cut classes that day as well, as Harry and Hermione hadn't been present during his first two classes. A suspicion began to form at the bottom of Ron's mind. Why is it always Harry and Hermione? Why not just one or the other? He forced it down and tried to ignore it, but all the same he felt his heart was sinking. Could Harry have a crush on Hermione as well? Ron had thought that Harry liked Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seventh-year who played Quidditch. Why else would they both be skipping classes? Where were they now? Ron shut his eyes tightly and stopped walking, leaning heavily against the wall. He clenched his fists and started to walk again, peering into all the classrooms he knew were not in use at the moment. If they weren't there, he'd then check the lake's edge, the common room, everywhere! Ron punched out into the air with his clamped hand, releasing the tension he didn't want to feel any longer.  
  
Finally he glanced into the last unoccupied classroom, hoping the two were not there, but wishing they were at the same time. Ron caught sight of black robes moving in the room. No doubt that someone was in there; the question was, who? He tried to gather courage enough to enter. What would Harry do in a situation like this? Ron didn't know. Besides, he depended on his friend too much. Ron decided to do what he himself would do in such circumstances. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the door handle to let himself in.  
  
All his hopes were dashed against the rocks in a stormy ocean at that moment. Ron saw what he had been dreading: Harry and Hermione.kissing. Ron didn't wait for an explanation. He slammed the door and sprinted as fast as he could in the other direction. An astonished yelp exploded from inside; it sounded like Hermione. He didn't care. Debating whether to wait it out or to escape, Ron chose the latter - very quickly. Thoughts pounded inside his body, and this time he didn't try to extinguish the fire burning in his soul. Ron made it to the door of Gryffindor House, shouted the password and leaped through the hole the Fat Lady covered almost before she had moved. He ripped the curtains of his bed open and dove in. Ron shut the folds of fabric completely behind him.  
  
It wasn't fair. Ron lay on his back, angrier than he'd ever been before. Harry had everything. Everything! And he, the freckled, the red-haired, the nobody they called Weasley, had stood there and let him. Every time! Harry had it all: the money, the fame, the adventure, great grades, nothing to live up to, and now he had even more. Now he had Hermione. The one thing Ron wanted more than anything, and he couldn't get it. Just like the rest of the stuff he'd wanted when he was a kid. It wasn't fair!  
  
He listened to Harry enter the dormitory, pull aside Ron's curtains, talk to him. "Ron? Do you realize that it's not even close to eleven? You're supposed to be in class right now, anyway! Ron?"  
  
Ron kept his eyes closed and hoped he would just go away. He faked a snore and turned over on his far side, the one farther away from Harry.  
  
The idiot kept coming closer. "Ron...are you all right?"  
  
He knew that if he faked sickness, Harry would get help or take him to the infirmary. Harry was that good a friend. But he didn't know how much Ron hated him now. Faking would get him away from Harry, at least for a while. Ron wouldn't have to say more than a few words to the traitor.  
  
By this time Harry was frantic. "Ron? Ron! Wake up! Ron?"  
  
Groaning, Ron realized it was now or never. And he couldn't face Harry. "Don't..feel..good," he mumbled and tried to sit up, but it seemed to Harry that it wasn't possible. Ron doubled over and moaned.  
  
"Ron, I'll go get help..stay here; I'll be back as soon as I can." With that Harry sprinted for the door and left the room.  
  
Later that night Ron was taken to the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey diagnosed him with an unsettled stomach and told him that he need only remain overnight, or until he felt better. Ron didn't want to contradict her, but he personally knew that he wasn't ever going to feel better, not when Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were at Hogwarts. He tumbled into a disturbed and troubled sleep.  
  
Harry was in his dream. He was smiling at Ron, and so was Hermione, and then the boy and the girl were smiling at each other, and then they were holding hands, and then...  
  
..Ron woke up, sweating, only to plummet into the same bottomless pit of despair, as he slept..  
  
..And Hermione was saying in a echoing, resounding voice, made of the stuff of dreams, Ron, you don't understand...you're still my friend. You know that, don't you? But, Ron, I don't love you, except as a friend. Ron..wait! Don't go! Ron, please! RON!  
  
But he had already disappeared, and reappeared in his bed in the hospital wing. He clenched his fists and tried to sleep. It worked and Ron did not awaken until late morning. Madam Pomfrey came bustling in and loudly complained, "You've got visitors. Visitors! When a person is sick, they get visitors!" She walked off, mumbling something about "these students today!" Ron didn't want to know who was here. If it was Ginny, his brothers, or some other friend of his, he was fine. If it was Harry or Hermione.he didn't know what he'd do. They still didn't know he'd seen them and they still didn't know how angry Ron was at them. And in through the door came the two of them, both Harry and Hermione. Ron decided he'd better face up to the two. He lifted his head and raised his eyebrows, narrowed his eyes. "Are you better now?" Harry was looking at him with obvious confusion. Ron could just picture him wondering why Ron was acting so strange. "Yeah, I'm better.but weren't you two sort of busy?" he replied pointedly. "Busy?" Hermione was staring at him now. He nodded his head and rubbed his forehead with his hand, leaning back, not meeting either of their eyes. "What sort of busy?" "Oh, you know, just that specific kind of busy, both of you busy." Neither of them were hearing the implications of Ron's last sentence. Finally he clenched his fists and yelled in a whisper, "I saw you two. Yesterday. During Binns' class. You know." They were embarrassed. Ron could tell. Harry was not avoiding his eyes, but was simply staring into Ron's, as if to say, Ron, come on.it wasn't anything.you know it wasn't. Ronald Weasley the nobody turned away and slumped down on his bed. "You can leave now." Tears stung his eyes but he blinked them away. They weren't going. "Goodbye!" he screamed. "Goodbye!" At this they turned and left the room.  
  
He got up and dressed. "Madam Pomfrey?" he called. "Madam Pomfrey, I'm better." Ron smiled widely, letting all his teeth show. He knew he was going crazy. It was all Harry's fault. But he didn't care anymore. He didn't mind facing them or anyone else in the school. Ron could stand it now.  
  
Leaving, Ron turned down all the corridors and up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. "I'm feeling better," he repeated over and over like some mechanical toy to everyone who asked. "Just tired." He climbed the stairs to his dormitory and lay on his bed staring up at the canopy suspended above his head. Ron felt like his smile was going to crack his face but he continued grinning insanely.  
  
Soon after Harry came in and saw him.  
  
Ron leaped up. "Hello, Harry!" he practically screeched. Harry edged back, a worried look on his face.  
  
"Maybe I should get Madam Pomfrey again?" Harry was half talking to himself. "He's probably delirious." He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. All the while Ron was smiling his crazy grin at Harry Potter. A cold shiver ran down Harry's back.  
  
"Ron? What is wrong with you? RON! What's WRONG?!"  
  
Ron began to babble.  
  
"It was you and Hermione. You and Hermione in the empty classroom. I ran off. Away from you. I like Hermione. You liked Cho. But now you don't! No! You like Hermione! Why don't you like Cho now? Why?" A crazed giggle escaped his lips and he collapsed on the bed, breathing hard.  
  
Instantly Harry snapped around to see an unkempt, ragged man standing in the doorway, holding a flask. Inside it was a liquid, colorful substance that writhed like a snake. The man stepped forward.  
"Harry Potter," he grinned, showing all his teeth slowly. More like a hiss than spoken words, his voice was growing louder and gleeful. "Harry Potter," he repeated. "The hero of the wizarding world. Looked life- threatening danger in the eyes more than once. Never stopped to think what was happening to his best friend." He sneered the last two words, maliciously.  
Harry turned, desperately, to see Ron lying across the bed. His face was white, his freckles standing out even more than usual. Not a trace of his usual personality remained in Ron's face.  
"Ron!" he hissed. "Wake up! Please wake! Someone come, anyone."  
He knew that Ron would not wake, and that no one would come; the dormitories' walls were magicked to be soundproof.  
"Harry Potter," he continued, "do you see what I have here? Do you see your friend over there? This is what he has become. I control him now. Yess." and Harry could see his teeth glinting, bared, "this is Ron. Ron, reduced to a nearly lifeless state. I stole his life, Harry Potter! Stole it, just so you would be allowed to prove your worth, in life.or in death."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned, barely daring to breathe.  
"Oh, what a question. Here it is, simply. To bring your friend back, to pour the life back into his body, to awaken him: you must die. Hand yourself over to Voldemort, and allow him to rise with the assistance of yourself, the famed Harry Potter, who stripped him of his powers in the beginning. To fight is futile. Your friend will be killed. And many others as well."  
"You may ask who I am. And I shall tell you. Harry Potter, I am a loyal follower of Lord Voldemort. His right-hand man. I have ways of removing people from the face of the earth, ways you would certainly not wish to be told."  
Ignoring the man, Harry ran to the bed and tried to wake Ron. It was hopeless.  
With a deranged cackle, the stranger smiled. "Now do you believe me? Your friend will never wake again unless.."  
Harry threw himself at the man, grasping at the bottle. He couldn't see whether the stranger had a wand, but he was willing to bet his life that it was somewhere around the person. When Harry finally saw him draw his wand, he shrieked "Expelliarmus!" and watched the wand fly into his own hand.  
"I've got your weapon," Harry said. He could hear his voice shake.  
"My weapon! My weapon!" He began to laugh. "Potter, what do I need with a weapon? I have something else." He drew a shimmering ball from his cloak. "My life."  
"Your life?"  
"My life. Without it you cannot destroy me. And it cannot be destroyed. But I can use it. Would you care to see how?"  
"No. What I'd like, however, would be you returning Ron's life to his body. Now." Harry's fists were clenched and his teeth were bared.  
"Of course, of course; all in good time. But first, Harry Potter, your life."  
"My life?"  
"Yes, your life. It is needed to revive Ron." His grin grew until Harry found himself hoping that Voldemort's slave would find his face cracked in half.  
"Not without a fight!" Harry drew his wand. The man leaped to the side of the room, using Ron's bed frame as a shield. Then he turned to Harry.  
"You cannot hurt me," he said, "without harming your friend." 


End file.
